


To Be Mine

by thedropoutandthejunkie (elenajames)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, First Time, Hand Feeding, M/M, Sexual Slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-18
Updated: 2016-10-18
Packaged: 2018-08-23 03:10:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8311768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elenajames/pseuds/thedropoutandthejunkie
Summary: Dean has an eye out for a hunting partner, someone to stay on the road with him while Sam’s at home. Sam, on the other hand, is just looking for someone for . . . company, much to Dean’s delight.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Remember folks, if you have to coerce your partner into having sex with you, that is not consent.

Sam’s never much cared for the auction houses. They’re depressing in their own way, and not all the ones John had visited were exactly reputable. Talbot’s is one of the better ones, at least; their slaves are clean and cared-for, not always the picture of health if they’re returns, but generally on the road to getting better. 

 

Bela’s not Sam’s favorite person, but Dean has a grudging . . . friendship of sorts with her, so he keeps his mouth shut. She is, after all, the one who let Dean know that a few slaves in today’s auction would be on the lower end of the price spectrum, something the Winchester’s could afford at least. 

 

Dean has an eye out for a hunting partner, someone to stay on the road with him while Sam’s at home. Sam, on the other hand, is just looking for someone for . . . company, much to Dean’s delight. The rumors of his tainted blood in the hunting world have made it hard to make friends, let alone meet anyone; that in itself is enough reason to stay grounded at their home base, doing research for Dean when he needs it and providing backup when necessary. 

 

The auction house is crowded, seats full and the people noisy as they chatter. The buzz of voices drops dramatically when the lights go down, and a spotlight on the floor picks up. 

 

“Drama queen,” Dean mutters when Bela takes the floor. She runs through the familiar rules and regulations, voice laced with just a hint of threat. 

 

“She knows how to handle the crowd, though,” Sam murmurs back. Bela is one of the few house owners that runs her own auctions, rather than hiring an auctioneer, and that’s earned her a little more of Sam’s respect. 

 

The slaves with the lowest minimum bids always come first. Sam and Dean watch a couple of female angels and demons go by, as well as a lone male werewolf before a pair of male angels catch their eye. Dean nudges Sam who only nods in return. Their minimum bid is well within the brothers’ price range, but watching them balk against the men hauling them forward speaks to behavioral issues a lot of buyers won’t bother with. 

 

The brother’s seats are close enough to see how well muscled the angels are, and Sam can’t help but admire them. They’re both attractive, but one is definitely meeker, hiding behind his companion. The one in front is struggling, refusing to make it easy on the stage hands trying to get them out onto the floor. 

 

“He’s a fighter, that’s for sure,” Sam whispers as Bela opens the bids. 

 

Dean smirks, shooting his brother a sideways glance. “Yeah. Go ahead and pretend the other one isn’t just your type, Sammy.” 

 

It’s almost no contest once Dean raises his hand. One other patron bids, but is easily outdone and gives up with a mere shrug of his shoulders. 

 

“Sold!” Bela declares crisply. She covers the mic long enough to give the stagehands instructions, nodding at Dean as he and Sam slip out of their seats. They pay at the front, Dean writing out the check as Sam watches the handlers try to bring the slaves forward. One angel is still struggling, glaring balefully at Sam as he’s lead forward. His companion is much more quiet, resigned. 

 

Sam takes a steps toward them, speaking a few calming words in enochian. The struggling angel settles somewhat, evidently to the disgust of the handlers who just shoot Sam a dirty look and leave the angels in his care while Dean finishes filling out the paperwork. 

 

“You speak English?” 

 

“Yes. We are both quite capable.” The feisty angel’s cadance is stilted, but his speech clear. His bright blue eyes focus unsettlingly on Sam before he drops his gaze down to the ground. The other angel sticks close behind his companion, shying away from Sam as he and Dean put the angels between them to lead them to the car. 

 

They’re silent on the ride back to the bunker, and go willingly as their new owners lead them up into the bunker proper. Sam’s relieved when they prove to have healthy appetites and good manners; for such lowly-ranked slaves, they’re exceeding Sam’s expectations for behavior. 

 

* * *

 

Bedtime brings up a whole host of awkwardness, different than what they’ve experienced through the first day. Dean’s angel - whose name is Castiel - seems agitated to be separated from his brother, Gadreel, but goes to his designated room when Dean explains Gadreel will be just down the hall. In Sam’s room. 

 

It’s not a secret that many creatures that wind up on the auction block go for the very purpose Gadreel’s been brought for. However, it doesn’t appear to Sam that the angel was in any way prepared for it, considering how he tries to flee as soon as Sam tries to touch him. The spelled door is all that keeps him from escaping, and hazel eyes are wide as he plasters himself against it. 

 

“Easy,” Sam croons, slowly stepping closer. “Hey, I’m not going to hurt you.” 

 

Gadreel whimpers when Sam’s palm comes in contact with his cheek, eyes clenching shut as he trembles. It’s pathetic and pitiful and very much drowning out whatever dregs of lust Sam had managed to summon. Sam just strokes a thumb carefully along Gadreel’s cheek until the angel’s eyes drift back open. 

 

“There are clothes for you to sleep in. Get changed.” 

 

Sam strips unabashedly, dropping his dirty clothes in the hamper and pulling on a sleep shirt and shorts. The angel is only half dressed, broad chest bare until he tugs one of Sam’s shirts over his head. He climbs obediently into bed behind Sam, stiff and awkward as he settles beneath the blankets. Gadreel smells faintly of generic soap and sweat mixed with the smell of Sam’s preferred detergent from the clothes. It stirs Sam’s cock just a little, but the shoves those thoughts away for now. 

 

* * *

 

Castiel and Dean seem to have come to some kind of agreement by the end of the first week, and the angel is ready to start the training regiment that Dean has mapped out for them. Castiel relaxes even more when it becomes clear from their sparring that Dean intends him to be a partner rather than a guard dog. Sam’s happy for his brother, really; Dean’s one of the best hunters in the world, and an angel at his side will only make him more efficient and formidable, not to mention giving Sam more peace of mind in knowing that his brother has a capable partner at his side. 

 

Gadreel, on the other hand, has issues arising by the hour. He sleeps but little when he’s in Sam’s bed and is constantly nodding off in random places around the house. He refuses to eat more than a couple bites food at a time and flinches at the slightest of sounds. Sam can’t approach him without the angel whimpering pathetically and even Dean - who is normally patient with frightened creatures - is starting to lose his temper. 

 

Saturday dawns bright and clear and Dean takes Cas, as he’s nicknamed him, out for the day. The angel registry is open until noon, and Dean wants to get Cas’ name under his so there’s no delay when they’re ready to hit the road. 

 

Sam makes lunch for them both - cut up sandwiches and fruit and sweet tea - before calling Gadreel downstairs. The angel is wary, but comes obediently when called. It’s a risk, but Sam takes a breath and turns his chair, pointing to a spot at his feet. 

 

“Kneel.” 

 

Gadreel shakes but obeys, settling with his hands on his thighs and his head ducked down. Plucking up a square of sandwich, Sam holds it out just in front of Gadreel’s face. Gingerly, the angel takes the bite, chewing and swallowing carefully. 

 

“...thank you, Sam.” 

 

There’s no denying the way Sam’s cock twitches, and he has to takes a deep breath to keep himself settled. He goes for a bit of fruit next, melon cool between his fingers. It’s hard to hold back through feeding the angel, especially when Gadreel’s mouth wraps around Sam’s fingertips to delicately take pieces of fruit, but Sam manages. He eats himself once Gadreel’s plate is completely empty, studiously ignoring the persistent ache of his dick. 

 

Gadreel still flinches when Sam guides him to his feet, but he’s forced to lean on the human as his legs tingle from holding the position for too long. Mentally, Sam makes a note to get a cushion for the angel to kneel on, something sturdy but pretty and soft. They spend the day as usual, researching and taking calls from other hunters; Gadreel’s fluency in multiple languages has proven vital already, as long as Sam can actually get him to talk. 

 

Supper is handled in the same manner, with Gadreel kneeling on a borrowed pillow from the sofa as Sam feeds him steadily. He offers a gentle pet to the angel’s soft hair when he clears his plate yet again. The flinch, of course, is still there, but some of the tension held tightly in Gadreel’s shoulders eases. 

 

“Good boy,” Sam breathes, voice huskier than he’d like, evidence of his desire. For the first time in a long time, Sam feels real resentment for the demon blood that makes him run hot - both in anger and his lust. He  _ wants _ and he has to take a moment to reign himself back in before guiding Gadreel back to his feet. 

 

Dean raises his eyebrow when he and Cas finally get home and Gadreel is resting peacefully on his knees next to Sam’s chair while they watch TV, but says nothing. Cas seems startled, but not upset, merely bidding the other pair a good night as he goes upstairs to shower and rest. 

 

The pattern of the first day becomes routine for them over the passing days and weeks. Gadreel gradually starts to lean into Sam’s casual touches and stops quivering whenever the hunter is near, star’s relaxing in their bed so he’s sleeping nearly as much as Sam is. 

 

There’s a tiny hint of guilt niggling at the back of Sam’s brain when he takes advantage of another Saturday alone. His work is done, for now, all of the emails and calls from other hunters taken care of, and there’s nothing planned for the rest of his day. Gadreel kneels patiently next to him, shivering a little when Sam reaches down to scritch his fingernails across the angel’s scalp. 

 

“Come, Gadreel.” The angel tenses when Sam shuts and locks their bedroom door behind him, but doesn’t try to run. Approaching Gadreel slowly, Sam hums in approval when he’s allowed to bring their mouths together. Gadreel’s not exactly pliant, not exactly melting into Sam’s arms, but he does kiss back tentatively. “I’d like to touch you. I swear, I’ll never hurt you, Gadreel, just let me-” 

 

Obediently, Gadreel allows himself to be stripped and guided to the bed. He’s wonderfully sensitive under Sam’s hands, letting out soft little sounds as Sam caresses his arms and over his chest and sides. He sucks in the tiniest breath when Sam touches his nipples, letting it out with a soft moan as Sam plays with them carefully. 

 

“That’s it. Feels good?” Sam murmurs, lowering his mouth to nip at the slight softness just below the angel’s belly button. 

 

“Y-yes, Sam.” 

 

The warm length of Gadreel’s cock just rests against Sam’s cheek as he nuzzles along the curves of the angel’s hips and down towards the join of his thighs and groin. His balls are a soft weight on Sam’s tongue and, here, he smells musky and warm. 

 

“S-Sam,” Gadreel whispers, a quiet plea that has Sam looking up. The angel’s eyes are clenched shut, his hands fisted in the sheets as he trembles. Sam moves back up the bed and brackets the angel with his limbs, brushing his mouth lightly over slightly-parted lips. 

 

“You’re alright, angel. Just breathe.” Sam waits until Gadreel slowly opens his eyes to go on. “Are you afraid?” 

 

“Yes, Sam,” Gadreel answers him obediently even if he looks terrified to do so. 

 

“Can you tell me why?” 

 

“Hurts.” 

 

Dropping a hand down between the angel’s thighs, Sam presses a finger just over the furled hole between his cheeks. “This? Doesn’t have to hurt. I can make you feel so good, I promise.” 

 

Sliding that same hand up, Sam curls it around Gadreel’s cock. There’s just a hit of dampness at the tip, but the angel’s fully hard. Sam breaks away for a moment to grab lube from the bedside, slicking his palm to make it easier for him to stroke the angel’s dick. Gadreel pants, cheeks pinking up and he drops his gaze from Sam’s as his orgasm builds. The shyness tugs at Sam’s chest; really, the angel is gorgeous and  _ exactly _ his type. He watches as Gadreel bites his lip to muffle his own moans, and his eyes drift shut as his orgasm nears. 

 

“Come, angel. You can do it.” And Gadreel does, with a shivery-soft cry, eyes opening up to reveal welling tears. “That’s it. That’s good.” 

 

Settling his weight down onto Gadreel, Sam waits until his breathing steadies. He brushes warm tears away with his thumbs and presses light kisses along the angel’s cheek, doing his best to soothe Gadreel’s frayed nerves. 

 

Crying trickles down into sniffles soon enough. Sam sits up, straddling Gadreel’s thighs. His hand is still sticky-wet with come and lube, and it’s just enough for him to jack his own cock comfortably. It’s a bit of a primal urge, to see Gadreel covered in Sam’s come, but Sam’s not willing to deny it to himself right now. Gadreel watches wide-eyed, tear tracks drying on his face as Sam jerks himself. He flinches slightly when the first streak of come lands on his belly, but he doesn’t object more than that as Sam empties his load on his skin. 

 

“Not so bad, right?” Sam breathes, feeling warm and loose as he flops down beside Gadreel. 

 

“No, Sam.” Maybe it’s the post-orgasm high, but Gadreel almost sounds like he means it. 

  
  



End file.
